


Sleeve

by yarroway



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/yarroway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tea and sympathy.  A H/W friendship fic with some hurt, some comfort and some fluff, and written for a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeve

The phone trilled. Wilson had the sense it had been doing that for a while. He fumbled on the dresser until he found it.

“H'lo?” Wilson’s voice sounded groggy, even to his own ears.

A hoarse, ragged voice asked, “What are you wearing?”

Wilson settled back down in bed, the cell phone held against his ear.

“Hello, House. You do realize that just because you aren’t asleep doesn’t mean I‘m not.”

House’s chuckle had very little humor in it. “Pretty sure this conversation proves it does.”

Wilson’s lips quirked in spite of himself. “Can’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried,” House said. “I just left the hospital. Felt like a ride.”

Wilson glanced at the clock. It was a little past one a.m. When Wilson had left for the day, House’s patient had been failing, and House wouldn’t have left if there were any doubt about the outcome. He started to ask, stopped himself. There was a note in House’s voice that Wilson didn’t like.

“Please tell me you aren’t riding your motorcycle and talking to me at the same time.”

“That would be illegal. Also very difficult. I’m parked.”

“Uh-huh. And would you happen to be parked right outside my place?”

House scoffed. “Of course not. I’m parked at the Starbucks, which just happens to be across the street from your place.”

Wilson pushed the blankets aside and got to his feet. “Ah. Well in that case, come on over.”

***

Wilson set a mug of mint tea down in front of House. Beside it his plastic honey bear smiled at both of them. House squeezed its stomach, sending a long trail of honey into his tea. The bear gave a happy-sounding squeal.

Wilson’s shoulder brushed against House’s as he sat down. House didn’t move away, which spoke volumes about his energy level and state of mind. He put his feet up and turned on the television, leaving the volume low. House picked up the mug, then set it down again without drinking.

He looked awful, Wilson thought. He’d been up two days straight working on this case, and it showed in the heavy bags under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. Wilson took House’s hand in his. He met House’s startled gaze calmly and turned House’s hand over, resting two fingers against the artery to take House’s pulse. It was fast, and his skin felt clammy.

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“Don’t remember,” House said. He leaned his head back against the couch. “Lunch.”

“Where, as I recall, you had two bites of my sandwich before you got called away.” Wilson stood to fetch some food from the kitchen, but House forestalled him.

“I’m tired,” he said, “not hungry.”

Wilson sat back down. He picked up House’s mug and held it out to him. “Fine, but drink this. You need the sugar and the hydration.”

House rolled his eyes but took the mug. He sat staring down at it, unmoving. “I couldn’t save him,” he said quietly. “We made him as comfortable as we could, but...” House trailed off.

Wilson heard the unspoken _but that’s all we could do_ that he was all too familiar with in his own practice. “Being a doctor sucks,” he said in agreement. “You want to move to Key West and sell seashells to tourists instead? You could busk when you wanted. We could sleep on the beach. Watch the guy with the cats.”

House took a drink. “Bail on your baldies? You’re not serious.”

“I’ve given many years to my baldies, and you know what? I can only do so much, and when I can’t any more it’s time to stop. Why not take a break? Why not Key West? I’ve been down there a few times. It’s gorgeous. It’s fun. There are a lot of bars and a lot of music and a lot of people wearing very little clothing.”

“Wilson, you dog.” House wasn’t smiling, but there was a pale sparkle in his eye. He drank again and put the empty mug on the coffee table. “I don’t think I’m ready to sell exoskeletons for a living, but I could swing a vacation.”

Wilson took the mug into the kitchen, ran water in it and left it in the sink. When he returned to the living room House was lying across the couch. “Last time you slept on my couch you called it a torture device. You want me to drive you home?”

House didn’t answer. His eyes were half closed.

"House?"

House remained stubbornly silent. Wilson got out a blanket that he lay over House. He knelt down beside the couch and put his fingers on House’s wrist.

House opened one weary eye. “I’m too tired to play doctor.”

House’s pulse was back to normal. Wilson left his hand where it was, curved around House’s wrist. He could feel the delicate bones under his hand, the flutter of House’s heartbeat. “You’re all right,” he said. He liked the feel of House's heartbeat, warm and alive, still, despite everything.

Wilson tucked the edge of the blanket firmly between House’s shoulder and the couch. "You sure you don't want a ride home? Your back will thank you in the morning."

Although he waited several moments, House didn't answer. Wilson turned off the light. As he headed down the short hallway into his bedroom he heard House mumble something. It might have been _shut up and let me sleep_. It might even have been _I'm already home, you idiot_. With House it was hard to tell, but it amounted to the same thing.

Wilson lay down on his own bed, turned onto his side, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and set his alarm for six. He wanted to be sure he had time to make pancakes in the morning.

Through the open doorway he could hear House's breathing, deep and regular. It turned into the sound of the surf on a beach, and followed Wilson into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to srsly_yes for her beta help.
> 
> Disclaimer: House, M.D. belongs to David Shore, Universal Television, Heel and Toe Productions, and a lot of other people who are not me. I'm not making any money from this.


End file.
